What You Need
by rizlow
Summary: Dean x Reader one shot - You're watching as Sam and Dean prepare to interrogate a demon… and Dean knows you're watching him


You're standing behind the demon, off to the left, watching as the Winchesters question him, listening and observing. They hadn't approached their captive yet. Sam is seated on an old barstool, sleeves rolled up, arms leaning on his knees as he sends a cold little smile the demon's way. Your eyes move to Dean, who is leaning one shoulder against the wall, his arms folded in front of his chest, his feet crossed nonchalantly at the ankle. "Where's Crowley?" he asks, his voice a velvet menace that sends goosebumps over your skin. You can almost smell the testosterone in the room, the alpha male atmosphere heating your blood at an almost alarming rate.

Dean moves a little, sinuous and smooth, and your eyes roam over him appreciatively. The bulge of his biceps inside his plaid sleeves, the cuffs rolled to reveal the strength of his forearms, his hips cocked at an angle, the hem of his t-shirt draped over the fly of his well-fitting jeans, the denim smoothly hugging his powerful thighs... it's all you can do to stifle a soft moan at the thought of that body without the clothes impeding the view. Your gaze moves up, slowly, and finally reaches his face, his eyes dark and dangerous as they meet yours, and as they flick quickly down your body and back up, a slow, sexy smirk curves his lips. You feel yourself blush, but you don't look away. A slow throbbing ache between your thighs makes you shift your weight from one foot to the other, and an almost imperceptible narrowing of his eyes makes you feel almost vulnerable, as if suddenly you had become prey.

His eyes move, slowly now, lingering over the swell of your breasts beneath your shirt, and his tongue darts out over his bottom lip. Your lips are parted now, your breathing more labored, and you take a deep breath, turning away and moving towards the stairs. "I'll wait for you guys upstairs," you manage to say, then quickly ascend, feeling his eyes on you as you leave.

You head straight for your room, your mind racing, almost frightened at the intensity of the feelings coursing through you. You lean on the dresser with both hands, your eyes closed, trying to slow your breathing and the pounding of your heart.

"Hey." His voice is honey and smoke, and you whirl to face him, your eyes wide and startled. "You okay?"

You look away, moving aimlessly to avoid meeting that intense green gaze. "I'm fine." He comes slowly towards you, and you move again, towards the partly open door. "Really, I'm okay. Just needed some air."

He's behind you before you can run away again, he moves like a predator, and that on-the-edge-of-scary feeling of being hunted sends a shiver up your spine as he reaches over your shoulder and quietly closes the door. You turn slowly, your eyes gradually making their way up his chest, over his lips, to his eyes. He reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours, his thumb tracing slow circles over the tender skin on the inside of your wrist, and you back up against the door, overwhelmed by his nearness, his musky, spicy scent - his cologne, or soap, or maybe it's just him - assaulting your senses. "Are you sure that's what you need?" he whispers, bending towards you, his lips brushing over yours and then hovering close as he stares down into your eyes, waiting, the room suddenly airless as a vacuum and just as silent.

And then your arms are around his neck, your lips crashing into his as you stand on tiptoe to reach him, and he pins you against the door with his body as he responds, instantly and ferociously, as if he had been unleashed. He consumes you like a flame, the heat licking over your skin and through your veins until you know nothing but the feel of his lips, the taste of him as your tongues glide together, the pressure of him against your body, hard and demanding.

You pull back, only because you need to breathe, and he stares down at you, a fierce light in his eyes. "Take this off," he almost growls at you, tugging at your shirt, and your trembling fingers move to the buttons. He watches you hungrily, then helps you slip the shirt off your arms, letting it drop to the floor. He reaches behind you and unfastens your bra with one efficient twist, then quickly removes it from your body, tossing it behind him before gripping beneath your thighs to lift you. Your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you swiftly to the bed, and your lips and tongue move over the skin of his throat before he lays you down and lowers himself over you.

You arch up beneath him as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, his tongue teasing at it, his fingers deftly undoing your jeans and pulling at them until they are around your thighs. His thumbs tickle over the creases of your thighs as he drives you insane with his mouth at your breast for a few more seconds, and then he's gone, standing beside the bed, pulling the remainder of your clothes, shoes and all, off before toeing off his boots and ripping his shirts off over his head impatiently.

He crawls slowly up between your legs, running his fingers over the inside of your thighs before stroking over your center, letting out a soft groan as your hips raise up of their own accord at his touch. His eyes are ravenous as he looks at you, watching you as he sucks the tips of his fingers into his mouth, and a shudder runs through you at the sight. Then he bends to run the flat of his tongue over your folds, lightly flicking at your clit as he raises back up, his eyes on you again as he speaks, low and rough. "Do you have any idea what you do to me, sweetheart?" His fingers are trailing down again, two of them slipping inside you as you clench around them. "The way you were looking at me, I had to get out of there. I was hard enough to drive nails," he growls before sealing his lips around your clit, sucking softly as his fingers stroke inside you, and you come hard, a quiet whimper the only sound you let escape as you tremble beneath him.

He guides you expertly through your high, sending you, whimpering helplessly, into several little aftershocks as he buries his face between your thighs, lapping at you, his tongue plunging inside to taste even more of you. You watch him as he stands, unable to even think of moving as he strips off the rest of his clothing and then begins kissing his way up your body, stopping to lavish attention to your breasts on the way. By the time he reaches your lips, you are almost desperate for him, and you whisper his name as he kisses you.

He coaxes your legs up around his hips as he rubs his length against you, nipping lightly at your bottom lip before raising up to look into your eyes. "You are so wet for me," he whispers, then keeps his eyes on you as he presses relentlessly forward, gently impaling you, watching as you rear your head back, trembling as he finally sinks in to the hilt, holding himself hard against you, his eyes drifting closed at the sensation. "So tight, baby. So damn tight. Fuck," he whispers, bending to kiss your neck, your shoulder, sucking softly to mark you and making you buck up beneath him a little. "Easy, sweetheart, easy," he says against your skin, moving slightly, slowly, exquisite torture as he ever-so-slowly pulls back and then in to the limit again.

"Dean... please..." you whine softly, and he raises his head again to look down at you, bending to kiss you hungrily before responding.

"Ready, baby?" he asks, his hand moving to your breast, tugging and pinching at your nipple as you gasp, nodding. He draws back, his teeth clenched as he drives in, then sets a fast rhythm, thrusting in with a little grind at each stroke, and you are moaning, incoherently crying out, and finally hoarsely calling his name as a supernova of intense pleasure explodes in you, your thighs gripping his body as your core squeezes him so hard he curses. "Fuck, baby, fuck," he grinds out, his voice forced and frayed, and then he growls your name as your spasms of ecstasy force his orgasm from him. Three, four more hard thrusts and he's seeing stars as he comes inside you, seemingly forever, your grip around his throbbing cock intense almost to the edge of pain.

It's several minutes later by the time you have again become conscious of your surroundings, and Dean has begun to stir once again, wearily raising himself on his forearms, resting his forehead in the crook of your neck as he blows out a breath. "Damn. That was intense. You... you are fucking amazing," he whispers as he finally manages to raise his head enough to kiss you softly.

"Pretty amazing yourself," you breathe against his lips, and you feel his lips curve in a smile.

You kiss for a time, still moving gently against each other, sending tremors through you both, until finally he pulls himself from you with a reluctant sigh, rolling to his back. He lifts his arm, an invitation, and you accept, cuddling close. "I didn't know... I mean, I had no idea how you felt, why didn't you say something?"

You huff out a little laugh, your fingers tracing around his navel, then downward, trailing back up as he hisses softly. "Right. Like you can't have any woman you want already. I didn't want to overinflate your ego."

You feel him laugh quietly, and then his finger is beneath your chin, tilting your face up towards his as his lips caress yours. In spite of the fact that you are thoroughly sated, it sends a thrill through you as he kisses you, long and sweet. "I don't want just any woman, Y/N. I want you," he whispers, and then you give yourself over to his lips and his touch, his fingers tracing patterns up and down your arm as he continues kissing you. A girl could get used to this.


End file.
